Through a Doorway
by D.W.Lam
Summary: Harry's a poor man who only wishes his wife to come back to him. A man who sits every night, to the doorway where she’s locked herself in with her misery. A man who whisper secrets to it and speaks of his love to her, hoping she’ll come back to him.


**Author's Note: **I wrote this after viewing a very sad movie called, Broken Wings. The movie's in another language, Spanish, but it's deeply and emotionally moving. I'm not sure if this story's a tear-jerker but it's definitely sad. I hope you don't mind that it's short and cliff-hanged; which is something I do _not_ (usually) do. But it seems right. So, with that saying, I hope you like it. Cheers, Writing from my Heart.

**Summery: **After the war, things aren't as happy as they should be. Remus mourns for someone Harry doesn't know as they sit for their quiet dinners. George, walks around the burrow looking for someone who isn't there. Ron's fallen asleep ever since the war and Hermione's been trying to wake him ever since. Then there's Harry, a poor man who only wishes his wife to come back to him. A man who sits every night, to the doorway where she's locked herself in with her misery. A man who whisper secrets to it and speaks of his love to her, hoping she'll come back to him.

**Through a Doorway**

**One-shot**

**T**he news came only but a month ago and yet, she still hadn't risen from her parents bedroom. Every night, he would leaned his head against the door and listen to her crying in her sleep; wanting nothing more then to comfort her. But the lock on the door was unbreakable and he feared that if he didn't go in soon, his wife may die.

The burrow was only kept by a few people--the people who had survived the war. Ron, who was still in coma, lied in his room with home treatment that Harry paid for; vaguely he wondered, even when Ginny would sit by his side for nights, if he knew about his father. Hermione slept on a cot next to Ron's bed, and when Harry found himself wondering, he'd watch her curled up in her cot seemingly lost as she reached out--her hand being inches away from Ron's. And every time, it seemed to be like this. Hermione's hand never seemed to reach Ron's and Ron's never moved to reach hers. This still happened, even four years after the war.

Four years after Ron slipped into an long sleep.

George, seemed to wonder the hallways and stop in front of his old room looking confused as if he expected his brother to be anywhere in the burrow--especially there. Sometimes, Harry would find him curled in the closet whispering to Harry, when he'd come for him, that Fred and him made a new gadget and how he couldn't wait to show him. Every one of the experiments George told him, were old models. Ones before the final battle.

Before Fred died.

Remus seemed to be the only one who held his ground, or at least he might've act it as Harry was. When dinner came, he'd cook food that would feed a bunch when it would only equal to two people eating at the table--both wishing that they were with someone else. Of course, the food would slowly disappear into the night and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Kreacher, for once, was following someone's orders. His wife, for example.

His wife who had remained strong as her father tried desperately, to fight off a forbidden curse Lucius Malfoy sent him in a last attempt to kill Arthur off. But even with him fighting it and continuing to try to live a normal life and even when Hermione searched and questioned every last person she could or even as Harry tried to buy the best help there was. He died. This struck him hard to swallow, the death seemed hard to take--more so then Sirus's. At first he let Ginny sleep in her parents room, giving her time and hopefully she'd join him in his own tears.

He was wrong, however.

Ginny never came and when he finally tried to force her out of the room she stunned him and then lifted him out of the room, far enough for her to be unreachable, before lifting up the curse and locking herself in the room. Now, Harry would usual curl himself outside the door- day or night -patiently waiting for her to come out. Sometimes, as he did tonight, he would lean his head to the doorway and as he listened to her cries he would whisper stories about Mr. Weasley or before everything went wrong.

Harry, closed his eyes as he breathed in and gently placed his palm onto the doorway--wanting to reach out to her. "Ginny," he whispered, "Ginny love. Are you all right? It's been a month now and you don't seem to want to come out soon. I know Kreacher's been bringing you food. I'm not mad. I'll never be mad at you; I just wish you'd let me do it. Remember when you're mum came over to our flat when I was sick? She never left until I was fine. I'm going to do the same, Gin. I love you and I'm never going to leave.

"Do you remember when you're dad asked me if we could have a muggle wedding? Just so he could see how it worked? He was such a funny man, your dad, I don't think there was a better father around and alive. I miss him tons, just like I've been missing you. I sleep out here, you know, every night. Do you remember when you wanted to have kids? Even though you made sure I understood that you only wanted a reasonable number? Not too many, you would say, just enough to make us happy. Why didn't we have them, Gin? Why did God, fate, or whatever the hell is out there keep you from having our kid?

"Do you remember how the doctor looked when he told us? Told us that you've been hit too many times in the abdomen, that something or another that was needed to have a kid, broke. I don't think you were as mad at me before when I socked him; I know he never deserved it. I know…but I couldn't stand seeing you like that. I could stand to see you cry, and here we are, crying." He paused, rubbing at his eyes, which was slightly easy being as he removed his glasses. He blinked when he stopped, a tear falling down his cheek leaving a wet trail that flowed down to his lips where he licked it away.

"Why won't you let me in, Gin? Why won't you let me be with you? Remus says that we should try and get Hermione to open the door, but she's as sad as you are, about Ron. Remember how we tricked them into actually admitting they fancied one another? I can't believe we did that, during those hard times. I bet Georges' missing you too. He talks a lot about Fred but then, when I find him crying too, I think he's crying…for you. For Fred. For your mum and dad. For everybody."

Harry coughed. His throat was beginning to sore as it always did and, as always, he grew angry at it. He needed more time to talk to her, needed more time to tell her that he loved her. He needed more time with her. Clearing his throat he traced the engraved carvings of the door that made the designs and closed his eyes before speaking to Ginny again. "My throats hurting, Ginny. I won't be able to talk to you until morning. Are you mad at me, Gin? Is that why you're doing this? I must be pretty stupid, huh?

"Of course you're not doing this because of me. But I can't help but wonder…no, I'll stop. I love you. I love you every single moment I'm away and it grows even more if I could see you, or just hear you. Tomorrow, will you talk to me back, Gin? I'm going to sleep now, Gin. I'll have breakfast with Remus and get ready, we can pretend it's a blind date. You know, a literarily one. I can't see you and you can't see me. Do you like that, Gin? I love you. Good-night, love," he whispered, pressing his lips briefly to the door before pursing them in attempt not to sob out loud. Every night he asked her is she would talk to him the next day, and every day he forced himself to be cheerful because one day she might.

Gently touching his pillow he laid his head onto it and pulled a part of the blanket up to his shoulders. He pressed his back to the door and heard it creak back in response before he closed his eyes. Ginny use to come out of the room, but she'd never talked to him. She'd go up to Ron or George and eat or shower before going back in again. It was his fault, and he knew it. He breathed in and closed his weary eyes, feeling them ache behind his eye lids.

Then in a soft, imaginary whisper, he could hear Ginny's voice. Beautiful and relaxing him into sleep. "I love you Harry; I'll talk to you tomorrow."

-

**Author Note's:** I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading it! Sorry for such a short ending. ) Much love if you review and also, I don't think that Harry will end up like this. It's just a point of view that was written when I was upset.

**Author's Note (Update):** Apparently I wrote this a year ago on, Dec. 29, 2004! And apparently I had really wanted to continue it, so I'm sorry if you wished for me to finish with a happy ending. I don't think I could continue this because at first I thought I had lost it and so I had given up on trying to re-write it by memory (don't try that, turns out awful in my opinion). Also, I don't remember why I was so sad but it definitely works for stories!


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